We all knew that Jack had been a soldier and a commander in the rebel army that helped keep rogue vampires from taking over the U.S., but he'd never gone into detail about how bad it had been.

  We may have been fairly isolated in Dead End, but we'd heard enough about the vampire-human war to know that it must have been very bad indeed.

  "Okay," Aunt Ruby said brightly. "Which one of you handsome gentlemen is going to lift this chicken out of the oven for me? It's twenty pounds."

  "I'll do it," Jack said.

  Aunt Ruby handed him the oven mitts, and Uncle Mike snickered at the sight of Jack in flowered gloves—at least until Aunt Ruby gave him a look.

  "You've worn those oven mitts yourself," she admonished him, but Uncle Mike just gave her a cheeky grin and pulled her in for a hug.

  "Anything for you, my love. Even flowery oven gloves." He planted a big, smacking kiss on her cheek, and Shelley grinned and said, "Euwww" all at the same time.

  "Anyway," Jack said, roast pan in hand. "I thought Molly and her band were going to Paris this week?"

  "PARIS? You and Molly are going to Paris? I want to go to Paris!" Shelley danced around the kitchen, nearly knocking the roast pan out of Jack's hands before he jerked it up and out of her way.

  "Calm down," Aunt Ruby said, gently nudging my sister into a chair. "Nobody is going to Paris. Especially not for Tess's birthday. We're going to have a party right here—"

  "We're not going to have a party, here or otherwise," I said firmly.

  "If you want to go to Paris, I know a husband and wife jewel thief team who have an apartment in Paris we can stay in anytime we want," Jack said, but then he tilted his head, thinking for a moment. "They might be retired from the jewel theft business now that they're married. She writes books, too."

  We all stopped talking and looked at him.

  "Jewel thieves," Uncle Mike said.

  "But at least they're retired," Aunt Ruby said brightly.

  "That's SO COOL!" Shelley said.

  "Nope," I said.

  They all looked at me.

  "Nope, nope, nope," I repeated. "I'm done asking Jack about these mysterious snippets of his past life. Clown secrets in Cleveland. Killer flying monkeys in Japan. Now jewel thieves in Paris. Just nope."

  Jack grinned at me. "You know you're going to ask. You can't stand the suspense."

  I blew out a sigh, because he might be right. But…later.

  "Anyway, they're reformed," he said. "And it was a Robin Hood situation, to be fair."

  "What…Nope." I pointed at him and then at the counter, and he put the roasting pan down on the hot pads and moved aside. I grabbed the carving knife and prepared to tune out any conversation about birthdays, clowns, or jewel thieves.

  "Jack! Do you have time to come see the raccoon babies with me after lunch?" Shelley was bouncing again.

  "I sure do. And—" Jack broke off mid-sentence, his head snapping up and his eyes narrowing as he looked out the back door. "No."

  "No, you can't?" Shelley's disappointment sounded in her voice. "But—"

  "I meant no, I can't believe that, ah, jerk followed me here," Jack said grimly, careful with his language around us as always, but clearly there had been another word on his mind.

  "Jerk?" Uncle Mike stood up. "What jerk?"

  "That eagle," Jack said, crossing to the back door.

  "The eagle?" Aunt Ruby looked confused.

  "An eagle shifter who knew Jack in the old days. I, um, sort of invited him to lunch even though he, ah…" I glanced at Shelley. "Had an altercation with Jack in the past."

  "That's one way to put it," Jack muttered.

  "An eagle shifter?" Aunt Ruby's face turned seven shades of pale beneath her rose-pink blush. "Tess! How could you?"

  "What did I do? He was there, and I didn't—"

  "You invited an eagle shifter to lunch when we're having chicken? Isn't that…isn't that…" she looked wildly around at all of us. "Cannibalism?"

  "I didn't think it was possible to shriek and hiss at the same time," I observed mildly, kind of impressed.

  Aunt Ruby pushed me away from the chicken, grabbed a towel, threw it over the bird, and swung the whole thing up and over the sink.

  And out the kitchen window.

  5

  Tess

  Everyone in the kitchen very loudly said nothing.

  Not a single word.

  Total silence.

  And then . . .

  "Ouch," in a dry Scottish voice. "Jack, if this is payback for the stabbing, it's … unusual."

  "He stabbed Jack? He stabbed JACK," Shelley shouted. "Make him go away!"

  Uncle Mike, who was nearest the back door, shushed Shelley and then stepped out onto the porch. "Sorry about the chicken. It fell."

  I'd never heard that flat, dry, and very unapologetic tone of voice from my uncle before.

  Another silence.

  Then Logan Mackenzie, sounding somewhat hesitant—or at least really confused—cleared his throat. "I don't know a lot about American customs, but … was I meant just to catch the chicken or catch it and throw it back? Is this a traditional greeting in the South? Um, even with the towel, it's really hot."

  I groaned. Aunt Ruby's face turned bright red, and Shelley let loose with a peal of nervous giggles before clapping her hands over her mouth.

  Jack sighed and walked to the door. "I told you not to come here. And hand over the chicken or somebody gets hurt. Probably you."

  "Surprised he's not already hurt," Uncle Mike muttered. "Twenty-plus pounds of hot chicken flying out the window at him."

  "Not exactly flying," Logan pointed out. "Chickens, unlike eagles, don't really fly. Not long distances, to be precise."

  Jack's eyes flashed amber, and then he followed Uncle Mike out the door. "You're here to be precise about poultry?"

  Aunt Ruby made a strangled sound like a sob crossed with a gasp and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I started to follow her, but then another spike of pain shot through my skull, and I fell into a chair instead, clutching my head.

  "Come on in," Uncle Mike said, still in that deadly calm voice. "Unless you have any weapons on you. If so, hand over the bird and get off my property."

  I glanced out through the screen door in time to see Jack, in profile, give Uncle Mike a look of surprise that quickly turned to appreciation, and at that moment I realized my uncle had put himself between Jack and someone my uncle perceived as a threat. I had to swallow a sudden lump in my throat.

  Jack put a hand on Uncle Mike's shoulder and gently moved to stand beside him. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I've got this one. Mackenzie—"

  "I don't have any weapons on me," Logan said, also quietly. "Well, only what I am, naturally. I just want to talk."

  After a long moment that should have come with standoff music from an old Western movie, Jack finally nodded. "All right. But hand over the chicken."

  By the time the three men and the mostly unharmed roast chicken were all in the kitchen, along with a bouquet Logan had picked up somewhere, Aunt Ruby had calmed her nerves and came back downstairs.

  Logan, to his credit, immediately noticed her overly pink cheeks and gave her a courtly half-bow, handing her the flowers. "Ma'am, I have never encountered anyone with such kindness and graciousness as to be so concerned about what I might want to eat," he said in his lyrical accent, which made both Shelley's and Aunt Ruby's eyes widen. "Tales of Southern hospitality have not been exaggerated."

  Uncle Mike and Jack both rolled their eyes, but my liking for the guy went up a notch for being kind to my aunt.

  "Well, you are welcome at my table," Aunt Ruby said, flustered. "Thank you for the flowers. Everybody, sit, please."

  When we were all seated—Logan was sandwiched between Uncle Mike and Jack, which was no accident—and passing around the food, Shelley, who'd been staring at Logan the entire time, finally spoke up.

  "But do you eat chicken?"

  Logan winked at her and grabbed a drumstick off the platter. "Eagles love chicken."

  "Euwww," she said happily, before grabbing the other drumstick. "Can you fly?"

  "I can absolutely fly," he said. "Not like this, but in my other shape. I guess that means I'm way cooler than Jack. Tigers can't fly."

  Shelley's smile vanished. "Nobody's cooler than Jack," she said icily. "He saved my life."

  Logan put his chicken down on his plate. "Yeah. He has a habit of doing that. He saved my sister's life, too."

  "Was that before or after you stabbed him?" My head was still pounding, so maybe that's why my voice was so sharp. I half expected Aunt Ruby to chide me for rudeness, but her gaze had iced over considerably as she watched our dangerous chicken-catching guest.

  Lou picked that moment to meow at the back door.

  "Saved by the cat," Logan said, grinning and jumping up to open the door.

  "Eagles better not hurt cats," Shelley said, the threat clear in her voice and in her tiny fists clenched on the table.

  "This eagle does not," Logan said, leaning down to pet Lou, who hissed at him, surprising everybody. She then stalked around the table and jumped up into Jack's lap.

  "Cats are excellent judges of character," Jack said smugly.

  It was my turn to roll my eyes, but even that much movement hurt.

  "Ow," I said, wincing. "This headache is really unpleasant."

  Aunt Ruby automatically reached out a hand to feel my forehead. "You don't have a fever."

  "I'm not sick. I just have this weird headache."

  "But you never get headaches unless you're sick. Maybe you're coming down with—"

  "Nope," I said. It was apparently my word for the day. "No sneezing or runny nose."

  "What about—"

  "No sore throat," I said.

  "Granny Josephine—"

  I shook my head. "No chills or joint aches."

  Suddenly, I noticed Logan staring at the two of us as if we'd suddenly grown extra heads. He tilted his head and gave me an interested look. "Is it telepathy?"

  I laughed, but then winced again. This headache was really getting to me. "No, it's more than twenty years of living with someone in a tiny town."

  "Well, this isn't good. Get the ice pack, Mike. Shelley, go get my heating pad," Aunt Ruby said. "Ice pack on the neck and heating pad on the shoulders, works every time."

  Uncle Mike shook his head. "You always say that, Ruby, but it never works for me. Protein is what you need for a headache."

  "Mom always said Valerian tea," Shelley said. "Or lemon balm tea. With a gentle spell."

  When she caught Logan studying her, she raised her chin. "My mom was a nature witch, and I'm going to be one too."

  I didn't quite understand the glance Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby shared at that remark, but another spike of pain pushed it out of my mind. Within minutes, I was staring at a plate filled with chicken, ham, and cheese, wearing a heating pad draped over my shoulders, and holding an ice pack to my neck with one hand and a mug of lemon tea with the other.

  If anything, my head hurt worse.

  "I'm not actually very hungry. Maybe I'll just go home and have a nap," I mumbled.

  "I don't think you should drive," Jack said. "I can take you."

  I didn't argue, which clearly worried Uncle Mike, who said he'd bring my car over later.

  "How did you get here? Fly?" Shelley asked Logan.

  He laughed. "No, sweet lass. I borrowed Jack's motorbike."

  "Borrowed," Jack growled.

  Logan held up both hands. "Sorry. Busted. The keys were on the counter in your kitchen, though, and your door was unlocked…"

  "We don't lock doors in Dead End," Shelley piped up.

  "We didn't lock doors before," I said, sighing and half-heartedly pushing all that protein around on the plate. I took a bite of chicken and a long sip of tea and then, surprisingly, felt a bit better.

  "I think Tess needs pie," Jack said, watching me.

  "There's pie?" Logan's eyes gleamed. "I love pie. Is there peach pie?"

  "Pecan, apple, and lemon meringue," Aunt Ruby said, looking apologetic, as if she wanted to jump up right then and make a peach pie for our semi-uninvited guest.

  Dang Southern manners.

  "I adore pecan pie," Logan said reverently. "It's not … is it homemade?"

  "Yes, all three are," Aunt Ruby told him. "Tess is the star baker in the family. Learned everything I could teach her and then surpassed me," she said proudly.

  I blinked. "That's not true! You are a far better baker than me."

  She patted my shoulder when she walked by me to get the pies. "Not true, but thank you for saying it. Your crusts are flakier and have been since you were about Shelley's age."

  "I'm learning to bake pies, too!" Shelley said, before stuffing the last piece of chicken on her plate into her mouth and pointing at the lemonade. "I mrmph grmlph prmmph."

  "We don't talk with our mouths full," Uncle Mike murmured, bending his head to hers and speaking quietly so as not to embarrass her. I met his gaze and smiled, sharing a memory of him saying the same thing to me when I was little.

  She nodded and blushed, and then she waved her hand in a beckoning gesture. I glanced across the table to see who she was waving at and then got my third? Fourth? Big surprise of the day, when the lemonade pitcher levitated and floated across the table toward my sister.

  "What is happening?" I croaked.

  Jack's eyes widened, and Logan sat back in his chair and whistled.

  "Shelley," Aunt Ruby said reprovingly. "What did we learn this week?"

  Shelley swallowed with an audible gulp and then grinned at my aunt and uncle. "We don't do magic at the table."

  I put the ice pack down on the table with a thump and shot an accusing glance at Aunt Ruby. "And my birthday party was the big discussion you wanted to have with me? Not, oh, I don't know, 'your sister started doing magic this week'?"

  "We don't need to bore our guest with this," Uncle Mike said mildly.

  Logan thanked Aunt Ruby for the giant slice of pecan pie she put on his plate and then grinned at Uncle Mike. "Oh, by all means, please go on. I'm not bored even a little."

  "We still need to talk about the missing statue," Aunt Ruby said, obviously desperate to change the subject.

  Logan's grin vanished. "Oh. Aye. The statue. Well, I might know something about that."

  Jack pushed back from the table a little and folded his arms across his chest. My cat gave a disgruntled meow and then hopped off his lap and stalked off to the family room. "Why am I not surprised?"

  Logan took a bite of pie, closed his eyes, and moaned as a blissful expression crossed his face. "Tess, will you leave this buffoon and marry me?"

  Jack growled.

  I was still hurting and also tired of only being wanted for my baking. "What do you know about the statue, Mr. Mackenzie?"

  The eagle guy opened his eyes. "Please, call me Logan. And this pie—"

  "Mackenzie," Jack roared. "The statue. Now."

  I flinched. "Indoor voices, please. Headache, remember?"

  Logan put his fork down and sighed. "Right. Jack, remember that time you made an elf very, very angry?"

  Shelley jumped up out of her chair. "THERE ARE ELVES?"

  "They like to be called Fae," Jack, Logan, and I all said at the same time.

  Jack pinned Logan with a glare. "Yes. And?"

  "He turned out to be a high prince of the High Court."

  Jack rolled his eyes. "They all claim to be princes."

  "Yeah, well, this one is Rhys na Garanwyn's brother. Kal'andel na Garanwyn."

  Jack sighed and slumped in his chair. "Suddenly I'm not hungry.

  Uncle Mike stared at him. "You're not hungry?

  I put the ice pack on my forehead and then put my head down on the table. "Jack's not hungry. The world must be ending. We're doomed."

  Nobody said anything for maybe an entire minute, and then Shelley's tiny voice pierced the fog of "holy crap, this is bad" circling my brain.

  "So, does this mean we're not going to see the baby raccoons?"

  6

  Tess

  Uncle Mike pushed his chair back and stood. "Come on, Shelley. Let's go see those baby raccoons and check on the pug palace progress. Ruby, want to come with us?"

  Aunt Ruby opened her mouth as if to protest, but then caught the intent behind the look Uncle Mike was giving her and nodded. "Right. Raccoons. I'll pick up my barn shoes on the way. Tess, Jack, figure this out. Mr. Mackenzie, it was … interesting to meet you. I'm sure we'll see each other again another day."

  Southern manners or not, Aunt Ruby was very good at letting people know when it was time to get the heck out of her house.

  Logan clearly got the message, but he only jumped up out of his chair and gave them both a respectful nod. "I'm sure Jack and I can figure this out. Thank you so much for the lovely luncheon, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan."

  Moments later, my family was gone, and I was left in the kitchen with a plateful of protein and two shapeshifters.

  I sighed and shoved my plate toward Jack. "Go ahead. I'm not hungry. Now, what about this Fae prince? Is he going to show up and smite us?"

  "Smite?" Jack's lips curved. "Was Pastor Nash on a rampage this morning in the sermon?"

  "Don't change the subject. What is this all about? Why would a Fae prince care about an old statue? What does it have to do with Logan's sister? Why now?"

  Logan wouldn't meet my eyes. "Well, I think—"

  "And you! You've got a lot of nerve asking for help from Jack after you stabbed him," I said, pointing a finger at him. "Let alone your smarmy flirting with me. You'd better tell us the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, or you are going to be very sorry you ever came to Dead End."

  "I—"

  "We protect our family here," I told him, giving him my best "Tess is a butt kicker" glare.

  Logan blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and then stared at me for a long moment.

  "Well?" I demanded.

  "I was just trying to be sure that it was my turn to talk," he said cautiously.

  "Talk!"

  The eagle shifter raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jack. "Does she speak for you, Shepherd?"